, 1887-05-24
A TERRIBLE SECRET.

Her sister, Suzanne de Therelles, six
years her senior, knelt beside her, sobbing
bitterly. Upon n little table, drawn close
to the side Of the couch, n clean napkin
had been placed and two lighted tapers,
for they were awaiting the arrival of the
priest, coming to give extreme JUNCTION
and the last communion
The apartment had that sinister aspect,
that air OF ~despairing adieux, peculiar to
the chambers OF the dying; walls of medI-
cine stood about upon the furniture;
linens wero heaped in the corners either
by tho foot or the broom, and tho chairs,
disordered and huddled in groups, seemed
as II affrighted, and death was there, con-
cealed and waiting.
The history Of these sisters was a very
sad and touching one, and talked Of far
and near through tho neighborhood.
Suzanne, the eldest, had been devotedly
loved in her youth by a young man, hand
some and good, and to whom she also WINS
much attached. They were fnncees and
only waited the day tixed by the contract
to marry, when suddenly Henri dc Sam
pierre was taken Ill and died. The despair
of the young girl was %frightful. She
swore that she would never marry, and,
putting on the dress Of the widowed,
which she never again left OF. Mile. de
Therclles kept her word.
One morning as she wa sitting in her
room thinking ~sorrowfully of the trouble
that had fallen upon her SO cruelty the
doom opened, and Marguerite, at that time
not yet 10 years OF age, threw herself into
her sisters arms, murmuring between
her sobs: "Do not cry. Suzanne. Oh, do
not cry. 1t breaks my heart to see you
grove. Surely you will not cry all your
life, for IL will never leave you; neverl
Like you | will never marry, but remain
with you always"
Suzanne embraced her tenderly,
touched to the heart by the ch!ld's devo-
ton. Nevertheless, she did not believe
her; the day would come to Marguerite
that had come to her-she would love,
INT then she would be alone again.
Suzanne, however, was mistaken; years
passed on, and the little one held to her
word. In spite Of the prayers of her pa
rents and the supplications of her sister she
resolutely refused to marry. Beautiful,
charming and a general ~favorite among
the young men of the neighborhood, moth
ing could alter her decisiou-she would
never quit her sister.
And thus they lived together side by
side in mseparable companionship. But
Marguerite was alw avs SD, more detected
and melancholy, II possible, than Suzanne
herself. 1t seemed as il the sacrifice she
had made, sublime as It was, had literally
crushed her. She grew old faster than
her sister; her hair turned as white as
snow before she was 30, and, constantly
suffering. she seemed like one struck by
some strange disease which always preyed
upon her.
Now she WINS dying, and dying first. In
tw~enty-four hours she had spoken but
once, and that only to ask for the cure.
bid him come" she whispered
hoarsely, Ibid him come, II quickly. "
Suzanne had obeyed. Lying upon her
back, her haggaru features drawn by
frightful spasnis, her lips moving without
uttering a sound, her eyes fixed and
sunken, Marguerite de Therelles was
hideous to look upon. Sobbing bitterly,
Suzanne still knelt beside her.
suddenly there was the noise Of foot
steps on the stairs, a moment later IL priest
III Ifs surplice entered the room n
leaned above the dying woman. AS soon
Js she saw him she began to toss rest
lessly about the bed.
God pardon you, my child" said the
old cure tenderly; God pardon you and
give you peacei The hour has come-you
must.speakv"
Marguerite shuddered from head to
foot as she heard the cures words. Again
and again she struggled to obey, but her
voice broke and died away III u stihed
rattle.
sit by me, Suzanne" she whispered
at last; ''sit by me that you may hear and
listen"
Suzanne. astounded, rose to her feet
and seated herself beside her sister.
God give them strength and send upon
them thy healing mercy" said the old
cure solemnly, lifting the hands of the two
women and holding them In his own
Then Marguerite began.
Pardon me, Suzanne" she cried;
pardon your wretched sister. All, IL you
could only know how l have suffered, how
! have dreaded this hour, dreaded it all
my life longl"
Pardon you, my little onel' Suzanne
repeated; but what am l to pardon you
forr Have you not sacrificed yourself for
mei Have you not been an angelo
mo, no. said Marguerite wildly, ''be
silent, l beg. 1 will tell you all. 1t is
%friGhtful, frightful; but do not stop me.
Speak l must, even to the shameful end.
Do you remember Henri, SuzanneS'' ap-
pealing abruptly to her sister. Suzanne
started and turned pale. Remember
Henri Would she ever forget himS
Yes" she answered, II remember
him"
HE died, " continued Marguerite, "be-
fore l was l5-yes, before l was 10. How
spoiled wasl How determined to have
my W wayi But never mind tina now;
let us return TO Henri. You remember,
do you not, the first time he Gamer 1t
was to bring us news OF father. / saw
him dismount from his horse. He was SO
handsome, so mob lookingl l waited in
the corner OF the salon all the time he was
talking. Children are so strange, so ter
riblelh she murmured, In tones OF agony.
After this he came almost every day. l
watched him always. always. l was far
more artful a o knew, my sistoc, for
thought only Of him, and, child US l was,
/ loved him.
When they told me he was going TO
marry you it was a blow-a blow SO ter
rible that night after night spent the
hours in crying that should have been
given to sleep. You remember, Suzanne,
that every morning after breakfast Henri
would conn to spend the day with us, and
that frequently you made for him a plate
of those little cakes of which he was so
e~xtravagantly fond-I can see him eating
them now, and afterward drinking a glass
of wine.
AS the day for your marriage ap-
preached, how jealous 1 b~ecame-how
terribly, cruelty j~ealousi At last, about a
fortnight before the wedding day, l think
i must have lost my senses. lie shall
never marry j said 10 myself; above NIL.
lie shall never marry Suzamner
'Onc evening, O day or two before tie